Titus Andronicus & Timon of Athens Read Online Free PDF Page B

cut the other.
    ’Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands,
    For hands to do Rome service is but vain.
    LUCIUS     Speak, gentle sister: who hath martyred 81 thee?
    MARCUS     O, that delightful engine 82 of her thoughts
    That blabbed 83 them with such pleasing eloquence,
    Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage
    Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
    Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
    LUCIUS     O, say thou for her: who hath done this deed?
    MARCUS     O, thus I found her, straying in the park, 88
    Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer
    That hath received some unrecuring 90 wound.
    TITUS     It was my dear 91 , and he that wounded her
    Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead,
    For now I stand as one upon a rock
    Environed 94 with a wilderness of sea,
    Who marks the waxing 95 tide grow wave by wave,
    Expecting ever when some envious 96 surge
    Will in his brinish 97 bowels swallow him.
    This way to death my wretched sons are gone:
    Here stands my other son, a banished man,
    And here my brother, weeping at my woes.
    But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn 101
    Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul.
    Had I but seen thy picture in this plight,
    It would have madded me. What shall I do
    Now I behold thy lively 105 body so?
    Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears,
    Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyred thee:
    Thy husband he is dead, and for his death
    Thy brothers are condemned, and dead by this 109 .—
    Look, Marcus, ah, son Lucius, look on her!
    When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
    Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew 112
    Upon a gathered lily almost withered.
    MARCUS     Perchance she weeps because they killed her husband,
    Perchance because she knows them innocent.
    TITUS     If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful,
    Because the law hath ta’en revenge on them.
    No, no, they would not do so foul a deed:
    Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
    Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips
    Or make some signs how I may do thee ease: 121
    Shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius,
    And thou and I sit round about some fountain,
    Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks,
    How they are stained like meadows yet not dry,
    With miry 126 slime left on them by a flood?
    And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
    Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, 128
    And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
    Or shall we cut away our hands like thine?
    Or shall we bite our tongues and in dumb shows 131
    Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
    What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues
    Plot some device 134 of further miseries
    To make us wondered at in time to come.
    LUCIUS     Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief
    See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
    Gives a handkerchief
    MARCUS     Patience, dear niece.— Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
    TITUS     Ah, Marcus, Marcus, brother, well I wot 139
    Thy napkin 140 cannot drink a tear of mine,
    For thou, poor man, hast drowned it with thine own.
    LUCIUS     Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
    TITUS     Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs:
    Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say
    That to her brother which I said to thee.
    His napkin with his true tears all bewet
    Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks.
    O, what a sympathy 148 of woe is this:
    As far from help as Limbo 149 is from bliss!
    Enter Aaron the Moor alone
    AARON     Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor
    Sends thee this word: that if thou love thy sons,
    Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
    Or any one of you, chop off your hand
    And send it to the king: he for the same
    Will send thee hither both thy sons alive —
    And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
    TITUS     O gracious emperor, O gentle Aaron!
    Did ever raven sing so like a lark
    That gives sweet tidings of the sun’s uprise?
    With all my heart,